Small Bump
by Consulting Writer M
Summary: Fem!lock AU. Sherlock and John have never been anywhere near intimate. But one night, bored out of her mind, she decides to go on a date with her dear friend and roommate. But when everything takes an unexpected turn, Sherlock becomes pregnant with John's child, and for once has no idea what she is going to do from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

It was a pleasant evening for the two of them. Even though it began very subtly and bluntly, not meaning anything, completely one-sided. It had always been one-sided for John. Ever since they met, it had always been one-sided. He had just returned from Afghanistan and was looking for a new start back in his home of London. When his friend Mike Stanford had been told that he needed a flat share, he sent John to the one other person he knew back at Bart's who woulda any him for a flat mate. He introduced them, the army doctor to the witty, observant taker. Although John was intrigued, Mike had left out the fact that this person who would take John in was a woman. John must have been really desperate, because he agreed to live with her.

A man living with a woman without there being any sort of intimacy was a bit odd. They always had to watch out for each other, make sure they didn't catch each other naked and all that. And living together raised a lot of rumors as well. Their landlady, Mrs. Hudson, always thought that they were dating, despite John constantly reminding her that he wasn't interested. Mrs. Hudson couldn't believe that Sherlock was one to date anyone, telling John how stubborn and ridiculous she could be, but thought it was nice that she was at least trying to make friends with him and never lost hope that Sherlock and John would soon be together.

John tried to disprove the dating theories. Every chance he got, he'd try to date someone he really liked, someone besides Sherlock. He had plenty of girlfriends because of it, each one of them a failure. Each one either left because of a mutual decision or because of Sherlock. Most of them left when they came to the flat to find Sherlock there, thinking that John was cheating on her with them, although Sherlock never seemed to mind. Some girls stayed after meeting Sherlock but soon left when they realized who they were competing against. John hated this, wished Sherlock wasn't such a big deal to his girlfriends, but she always was.

John never saw Sherlock that way, at least at first. At first, Sherlock was just some girl, and a crazy one at that. She was a woman of science, a consultant for Scotland Yard, enticed by murder and crime-solving, always craving adventure and mystery, always looking to be clever. She was always stubborn and narcissistic like that, never too sympathetic, not exactly human in nature, never wanting to be. She always wanted to be something more than a normal person. That was how it was at first. Men have wanted Sherlock before, it's true. John never felt like he wanted her that way at first, but even DI Greg Lestrade admitted to John that he was interested in Sherlock at a time. John had convinced himself he'd never feel that way for Sherlock. But over time, he did. Despite her being stubborn and narcissistic as well as being one of bad habits (such as an old drug habit and keeping body parts in the fridge like the murderer in a Hitchcock movie), over time John found some good in her. She was clever and amazingly smart, knowing more about science and detail better than John's eyes could see with one glance. She was almost always very stoic, but when she did noticeably feel, it was very humanizing. John always saw in her eyes if she was pleased or hurt, whether she expressed it or not. He often found himself looking at her expression a lot.

Men fell for Sherlock for a reason, because not only was she brilliant, but she was also physically attractive, although she never thought so herself. She was tall, even when she wasn't in heels, and had a slender figure under her big, black coat. Her skin was like ivory, contrasted to her dark, curly hair that reached down just past over her shoulders when it wasn't tied up in a ponytail, the hair tie always missing a section of her hair that would fall over her face. Her lips were a sweet pink color when not coated in blood red lipstick (which she only ever wore on occasion), and her eyes were big and popped with color, blue or green on a sunny day, grey when it was cloudy. Her voice was clear, her diction precise, but her laugh brought joy to a room, at least in John's mind.

John had been like every other man Sherlock had ever encountered. Yes, John had fallen in love, even though he tried so hard to prevent himself from doing so. Even so, he'd never reveal his true feelings to Sherlock. She would most likely not feel the same way and shame him for ever feeling that way about her. That wasn't even the worst she could do; John couldn't imagine what the worst thing Sherlock could say or do was. Most likely, Sherlock would figure it out beforehand. John never tried to get to her because of it. But one day, he did.

One night after a tedious case, Sherlock was lying on the sofa, her arm dangling down to the floor, staring at the ceiling. John was putting some groceries away into the pantries and the fridge, since Sherlock never even bothered to buy groceries. He could tell she was bored; she was always bored if she couldn't occupy her mind with murder or experiments or something.

"Bored," Sherlock sighed exasperatedly. She waited to see if John would respond, but he was occupied with the groceries at the moment. "Bored," she repeated in a louder tone. John just smirked, now aware that she wanted attention. She was funny like that, according to him. When no response came from John, Sherlock made a third attempt to get his attention. "Bored!" she shouted as she threw a pen into the kitchen, almost hitting John in the face. John moved away so the pen just missed him and landed on the other side of the table. John sighed, knowing that if he didn't do something that she'd start throwing knives or something just as dangerous.

"What do you want me to do about that?" John asked. "There's not much I can do to cure your constant boredom."

"You're creative," Sherlock replied, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Was that a joke?"

"Jokes are dull."

"Of course..." That's when John got the idea. It was creative, like Sherlock wanted it to be, but it was also rash and rather idiotic of him. He took a deep breath before he uttered what he said next. "Why don't we go out?"

"Out?" Sherlock replied. "Out where?" "Like out on...on a date." There was a pause, Sherlock taking time to actually think about exactly what John was offering to her, trying to deduce the meaning between the lines. Finally, she said, "John, um, I'm flattered by your gesture, but I've told you before, I'm married to my work and-"

"It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to!" John interrupted her, a bit irritated. He sighed, calming down. "Look," he continued in a calmer tone, "it was just a suggestion. You don't have to if you don't want to..."

"Oh..." Sherlock looked over to John, tilting her head over the arm of the sofa so that her long, dark curls draped over it. "It doesn't have to mean anything? I don't think that's how a date works."

"I know, but..."

"How about this. We have one date. Just one. One date where we dress nicely and have a good time, just for fun. And then we'll end it and forget it happened. How does that sound?"

"Sounds a lot like a one-night stand."

"Well, we're not having sex, so it doesn't matter."

"Ah. So basically just going out to dinner like we always do on cases, except without the case."

"Sounds dull, but I guess it could work."

"Okay." John smiled lightly, actually having succeeded in taking Sherlock out on a date. Still, he felt rather off, considering that after this date, there wouldn't be another one. Sherlock got up and grabbed her coat, and the two of them went out to dinner.

John agreed that they go to Angelo's, since Sherlock had taken him there before and they get their meals for free since she got the owner off a murder charge. John felt rather bad for not being able to pay, since it is customary for the man to pay on the first date. Well, of course, it was Sherlock's idea, and it saves John money, so he didn't mind it for very long. John made an effort to have an intimate conversation with Sherlock. It wasn't too easy, considering she knew almost everything about him, and every response she gave was rather complicated or logical rather than fun and creative. It was almost like dating Spock. But as the night went on, the conversation became more interesting. John feared that the two of them might have had more than enough wine at the table, but still it gradually became lighthearted and a lot of fun. John didn't suppose that anything would go unexpectedly once they finished eating and headed back to the flat.

The sex, however, was unexpected.

Sherlock admitted to John that the night, although it was interesting, was still rather dull. She told him that she thought it would be more exciting than it was. John suggested that they make it a little more exciting, and that is how they ended up in bed together.

It was awkward at first, for John, because he wasn't sure if he should be doing it. He worried she wouldn't like it, her having admitted to losing her virginity for the purpose of experimentation back at Uni. He was concerned that something could go wrong as he slipped the condom on and prepared himself for what was to come.

He wanted it. Oh, God, how he wanted it all - to be with her, for her to be his, for them to be this close, this intimate. It didn't matter to John that it was all for the sake of fun, to relieve Sherlock's boredom, and that it wouldn't matter by tomorrow. All that mattered was that it was only for one night. One night to call her his, one night to be intimate, and just like Cinderella, it'd be all over by morning. Better make the best of it, he thought.

And so, for one night, John got what he wanted, to be with Sherlock. He loved her even more than he had before as he lay with her in bed. He had one night with her, one magical night that he wouldn't take back for anything in the world. It was sad, though, how she would never feel the same way about him. He didn't think anything would change that and they'd always remain just friends, roommates, partners in crime, never a couple.

Little did they know that that night would change their relationship for good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

_One month later... _

It started at a crime scene. It was the typical domestic murder, made to look like suicide, but with no weapon and obvious signs proving it wrong, it had to be murder. Who the killer was or how they got in and out without breaking in was a mystery, so Lestrade called Sherlock and John in.

None of them had mentioned their date night to anyone - not to Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson, and especially not on John's blog. It would raise too many questions in the comments section, causing John to disable commenting altogether. Plus, after it was over, Sherlock made it feel like it never happened. And it had been a month. No one would believe them now.

Beforehand, John had Sherlock eat some breakfast with him. He got breakfast sandwiches for the two of them, with eggs and ham and cheese. Sherlock had been one to eat very little, and John didn't like that she was practically starving herself like that. So for a while he tried to help her get over that habit and eat regularly like a normal person. Sherlock scoffed at the gesture, joking that he was trying to fatten her up.

Once they got there, Sherlock immediately began investigating the body while John went to question the victim's wife. It was just a simple, standard day for Sherlock and John, a case that Sherlock could probably solve quickly and send her back into a state of boredom. The victim's head was a lovely sight, shot more than once and surrounded in a pool of blood and some brain. Sherlock was delighted. As John asked the victim's poor, sobbing wife (who proved not to be a suspect), Sherlock was busy informing Lestrade of the victim's condition.

"Whoever shot him," she was saying, "obviously didn't make suicide look optional. They took two shots to the head, something a suicide could never possibly-" Suddenly a small belch came out of her, which she covered with her hand before it submerged.

Lestrade became concerned. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," Sherlock replied.

"Sour breakfast?"

"Yeah. John's trying to fatten me up," she joked.

"What? What do you mean?"

Sherlock shrugged. "He's trying to get me to eat more often. I'm fine, really. He doesn't have to be so..."

"Considerate?"

"Eh...I would say intimate."

"Intimate?"

"Yeah, kind of almost like a boyfriend. He's not my boyfriend. He should know his place."

"You know, John's a nice guy. He's only trying to help you, Sherlock. It's what good friends do, help each other."

"Like...the way I help you?"

"Sort of, I guess. You've helped me with more than you know."

"Yes, I'm aware you quit smoking."

"Well, I guess you do know. Go figure." He chuckled with Sherlock. "We should head in, get the wife in the know." Sherlock nodded and followed him in.

Almost automatically as she and Lestrade stepped into the house, Sherlock had an awful feeling creep into her stomach. It was an almost familiar feeling, and she knew what it was. She immediately searched for the loo and quickly headed there before she leaned over the toilet bowl and threw up.

Lestrade had noticed her run in there. He became worried again, walking over to John, who was still consoling the victim's wife. "Hey, John," said Lestrade, "I heard you took Sherlock to breakfast."

"Yeah," John replied. "What about it?"

"Next time, don't."

"Why?"

"I don't think it agreed with her too well. She threw it up."

"Really? Oh no..."

Lestrade led John to the bathroom door. He knocked. "Sherlock? You okay in there?" Sherlock opened the door, startling John. She seemed fine, looked fine.

"What is it?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.

Still, John wasn't convinced. "Greg says you threw up. Are you alright?"

"Oh, right, yeah...I'm alright. Food poisoning, I think. Had to be. Nice going, buying me breakfast. Such a shame it went to waste."

"Stop it. Sherlock...I'm sorry. Maybe we should just take you home, if you're sick."

"Hold on," said Lestrade, "we still don't know the weapon."

"Double-barrel shotgun," Sherlock replied. "Obviously. Two parallel bullets, had to be. I'd ask anyone who was interested in hunting or any fathers that own shotguns."

"Ah...well, alright, Sherlock. Get better, will you?"

"I will. I have to, you need me, remember?"

"Of course."

John got Sherlock a cab for the ride home. Sherlock seemed annoyed when John pulled her out of the crime scene. He hated having to do that, but if she wasn't feeling well, she shouldn't be there. By the looks of it, it seemed that she wasn't going to talk to him for the rest of the ride home. John sighed. "Sherlock?" he said. "Are you doing alright? You're not still sick, are you?"

"Im feeling alright for now, John," Sherlock replied. "I just have food poisoning...unless you have other ideas."

"I don't. I'm really sorry that breakfast didn't agree with you. I was only trying to help... Besides, what else could it be?"

"There are a number of possibilities. You're the doctor. What's your diagnosis?"

"Most likely food poisoning. See, I'm using your deduction method to rule out the impossible. Like stomach flu. I would know, and you don't look sick, so it's not that. It could've been a nervous stomach from the blood, but, come on, you're Sherlock Holmes. You've probably seen worse."

"Girls see more blood than men, John."

"Right. Well, it can't be morning sickness."

"I'm sorry?"

"Morning sickness. It can't be morning sickness. That's usually a symptom of pregnancy, and you're not pregnant."

"Oh. Of course not. You know I don't engage in regular sexual encounters."

"I know... Anyway, since all those ideas are ruled out, you probably just had a bad reaction to the food. Don't worry. I won't take you out there again."

"Good. Thank you, John...and nice deductive work. I'm rubbing off on you, aren't I?" She smiled at John with her sweet, almost-crooked smile. John loved her smile, chuckling in response.

Although John's deductions were fair, Sherlock had a thought cross her mind. Never, ever, had she ever considered the possibility that she was pregnant. She felt like she needed to shake the idea out, because the possibility was unlikely. She couldn't have been pregnant, because the last time she had a sexual encounter was a month ago, with John, protected and everything. There was no way she was. It wasn't possible. She shook the idea out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

Sherlock was in the lab at Bart's when she felt sick again. She ended up throwing up in a small waste bin. She had hoped no one was aware, but she was caught by none other than sweet Molly Hooper.

Molly was a sweet girl, almost he same age as Sherlock, maybe a but older, who had a shy disposition, although she was obviously not too fragile and unstable, considering she worked in the morgue. She and Sherlock were two completely different women disposition-wise. Molly was sweet and open, while Sherlock was brutally honest and closed.

Molly saw her poor friend vomiting into the bin and became concerned. She got Sherlock up and helped her out of the morgue and into the infirmary at the hospital to see a doctor, which Sherlock was not very fond of. They sat in a waiting room, Sherlock holding the bin in her lap.

"This is humiliating," she mumbled.

"You're sick," Molly replied. "I think it'd be best if you see a doctor. How long have you been like this?"

"A couple days..."

"Sherlock, you might have a virus. You need a doctor!"

"Still, it's humiliating..."

"Why? Does John work here?"

"No. He doesn't know how long I've been nauseated. I've been good at hiding it. And he doesn't work in this clinic. He doesn't even work at this hospital... Besides, why would it be humiliating if John was here?"

"Then why is it humiliating?"

"I don't usually get so sick."

"Well, everyone gets sick, Sherlock. It's normal."

"I know..."

The doctor was ready to see Sherlock. Molly went with her into the doctor's office. Sherlock got dressed in a gown and sat down, chills running down her spine from the cold of the office. Once the doctor came in, he asked Sherlock about her symptoms, how long she had been sick. The doctor examined her body. Finally, he said, "How is your sexual activity? Is it frequent with your partner?"

Sherlock was appalled. "Excuse me?" she replied, insulted. "I don't have a partner. And I don't engage is in sexual activity."

"Oh. Have you done so recently?"

Sherlock looked at Molly. She never admitted to her about date night, either, and so what she was about to say next was a shocker. She couldn't lie to her doctor, of course. "I had a sexual affiliation about a month ago," she replied, "with a male companion."

"I see. Tell me, have you skipped a period?"

"I'm always either late or early. I don't keep track."

"Uhuh. In that case, I suggest you make an appointment to see a gynecologist and possibly take a pregnancy test. I might be wrong, but I'm only making sure-"

"That's not possible," Sherlock interrupted him. "I would know if I was, wouldn't I? Besides, it was under contraception."

"Ma'am, I'm only suggesting it, just in case."

* * *

"I can't believe it," Sherlock ranted to Molly. "He thinks I might be pregnant."

"He is a doctor," Molly replied. "It's only his judgement. And he could be right-"

"He isn't."

"Who did you have sex with anyway?"

"Who do you think?"

"Really? John Watson? But...why?"

"I was bored. He was desperate. We made two ends meet."

"That's...interesting. Now you might - I say might - be carrying his baby."

"I'm not. I'm not carrying any baby. I would know."

"You don't know everything, Sherlock, you know. I'd at least take the doctor's suggestion to get a pregnancy test, see a gynecologist, all that. You can never be too sure. The question now is what if they're right?"

"I think I'll decide that when they're proven right. So far, I'm not convinced."

"Take a test, Sherlock, please, at least."

"Of course I will, but only to prove a point."

"You should tell John, too, since it concerns him."

"I will tell him when it becomes necessary."

"And when will that be?"

"When I'm pregnant."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Sherlock came back to the flat after stopping at Tesco's under the doctor and Molly's suggestion. She was home later than she usually got home, which she didn't mind. What she was concerned about when she stepped into the flat was that John had already come home. He was standing in the kitchen, looking through the fridge, finding the milk carton empty again. He sighed as he noticed Sherlock walking in.

"I just bought this a week ago," said John, holding the milk carton up. "Do you really have to use it for experiments?"

"Only ones that involve milk," Sherlock replied. "Besides, you drink it, too. In your coffee, in your cereal. I'm not the only one to blame."

"So what? Milk should last more than a week, Sherlock."

"According to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to relieve myself." Sherlock put her bag down and walked nonchalantly into the bathroom, trying to hide the pregnancy test behind her without him seeing. Although she successfully hid it without him noticing, there was the matter of the second one. Sherlock had purchased two tests, under some advice from Internet resources, and had one hidden in her brown satchel. She couldn't hide both of them, so she'd have to think of a way to sneak the other one into the bathroom while John wasn't aware.

John, however, was concerned. Sherlock's bag had been idly thrown onto the sofa, open, revealing the top of the had never seen that box before, nor was able to read the front, still covered in the bag. John wasn't as much of a snoop as his roommate, but he was definitely curious. If any man knows anything, it's that no one looks through a woman's things without their permission. Of course, no one said anything about taking their shoe and tossing it at their female roommate's bag so a mysterious box could fall out and be revealed. And that's exactly what John did. Childish of him, sure. Desperate of him, absolutely. Stupid of him, possibly, but he succeeded in knocking the bag over, the box sliding onto the floor. He almost cheered in excitement, but didn't want Sherlock to notice. He kept himself collected as he calmly walked over to pick the bag up and place it back on the sofa. He turned around to pick up the box. The first thought of what he saw was confusing. Why would Sherlock have a pregnancy test box in her bag? Suppose it was for an experiment? What kind of experiment would she need a pregnancy test for? It was a bit odd that he didn't concern himself with the fact that Sherlock might be pregnant, but when it hit him, he shook his head. Impossible. She couldn't be pregnant. Then he assumed she was concerned because of what John had deduced back in the cab a few days ago after she threw up at the crime scene.

He walked up to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Hey, Sherlock?" he called from the hall. "You know, I was just kidding when I said you might be pregnant." There was no response, just a moment of silence. "You don't have to worry," he continued, "you're probably just sick, you know? Maybe you should take some antibiotics? Maybe they'd help..." There was still silence. "Sherlock? Hey, are you alright?"

Sherlock was standing there in the bathroom, frozen, breathless. For once, she felt scared, her heart stuck in her throat. She tied to swallow it down again. She couldn't speak, nor find the words to say as she looked down at the little pink plus sign that had appeared on the test.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

"Hey, Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock felt her heart skip. She hadn't even realized John had been standing outside the hall. Hearing his voice was almost like feeling her heart fall down into her stomach. She swallowed again, quickly hiding the pregnancy test and the box in the small bin , covering the test in toilet paper. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She was appalled when she saw him with the box, red in the face, snatching it back.

"Where did you get this?" she asked angrily. "Snooping through my things, were you?"

"Why is that in your bag?" John asked bluntly.

"You mean why _was_ it in my bag? Apparently you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"You're one to talk." Sherlock walked past John, but he still tried to get through to her. "Sherlock, what's going on?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because you're my friend, Sherlock! That's why!" Sherlock stopped walking, her back towards John. She held the box tightly against her chest, protecting it from John's grabby hands. John sighed. "What's going on? Did my statement the other day scare you?"

"Of course not," Sherlock replied.

"Then what is it?"

Sherlock sighed. "Okay. Molly had me see a doctor since I was still feeling sick, and the doctor said I might be... It's just precautionary. I went to Tesco's, bought two tests, and came home. That's it."

John looked at Sherlock with worried eyes. His lip twitched slightly, unsure of what to say or how to feel. He shook his head quickly. "That's still a big might, right? I mean...wait. Two? Were you...taking the other one? What did it say?" Sherlock didn't want to answer. She swallowed again, looking away from John almost shamefully. John knew what that meant, his eyes widening. "No...are you serious? Was it...? Oh, God..."

"I'll let this sink in for you-" Sherlock tried to get out of it all, possibly just go to bed and try to forget it, but John wasn't going to let her.

"No, Sherlock," he interrupted sternly, "sit down. We need to talk about this." He took a deep breath. "Calmly. I'm not going to yell. We will discuss this...calmly." Sherlock nodded, walking over and sitting down in her chair across from John's, taking her hair out of the uncomfortable ponytail. John sat across from her, leaning forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees as she sat on her feet, curled up in her chair, placing the box on the arm next to her. "Okay," John began, "let's just...take the matter lightly. How...how do you feel? Okay?"

"I...don't know how I feel," Sherlock replied. "How should I feel? Happy? Afraid? What?"

"So you're...just confused?"

"I'm a bit shocked, to be honest. Aren't you?"

"A bit...because I guess this involves me too, because aren't I...?"

"The father? Well, you were the last person I had sex with and one of the only ones since Uni. If anyone's the father, it's you."

"Right...uh, Sherlock, um... What do you want to do about it?"

"I'm not sure...I guess I'll just...let it happen? I mean, pregnancy's only ephemeral, so I'll keep going through it until..."

"What about the baby? You do know that pregnancy leads to a baby."

"I'm not stupid, John. I know how a female body works."

"Sorry, right. I was just...lightening the mood a bit."

"Really, John? It's not helping."

"Sherlock, listen to me now...I am your friend. More than that now, I'm the father of your possible child. I promise to be there for you...through everything. Through all of it. You're my friend, Sherlock. I'm not going to abandon you just because you're having...my baby... Oh wow." He started laughing nervously.

"What?" Sherlock asked, confused by his laughter.

"Sorry," said John. "I just never...imagined you being a mother, let alone the mother of my child. You're not exactly the mothering type, to be completely honest."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you're not too domesticated. You're so independent and free-spirited, not to mention stoic and pretty brutally honest."

"So was my mother, high-strung, a bit strict, somewhat stoic. You wonder why Mycroft and I are so stubborn, we get it from her."

John chuckled. "Well, I guess you're not like most mothers..." Sherlock felt a grin form on her lips. "See? There's a smile. See, don't worry, Sherlock. I won't if you won't, because it'll be alright... Do you want a hug?"

"No, I...I need to be left alone for a while."

"Oh, uh, alright..." Sherlock got up and walked to her bedroom, John watching as she left. "If you need a hug or anything, I'm here, Sherlock..."

John wasn't sure about how he should've handled that situation. He wasn't sure how he felt just yet. He wasn't angry. Sherlock wasn't angry either. He felt like Sherlock might be afraid of the idea of having a baby. His baby. It was a scary thought. She never intended it to happen, nor did John. All they could do now was let time continue to tick on, let Sherlock get through it all. John had no choice but to stay with her. She was his friend, and that was his child. He'd have to help her. He wanted to help her now more than ever, and he hated how she chose to be alone now when she needed comfort. Still, John gave her the space she needed.

Sherlock was lying in her bed, curled up, confused and scared, more so than she probably had ever been before. She felt like a child lost in the crowd, separated from her mother. She wrapped her arms near her abdomen hesitantly. A forming, living human was growing inside of her womb, and that scared her. She finally got her hands to touch around it. It was overwhelming. She kept herself from possibly crying her eyes out. She didn't want this. This was going to alter her life forever, and she was so unsure of what to do, the woman who was always one step ahead of everything.


	6. Chapter 6

Who are we going to tell first? JW

Tell who what? SH

That you're pregnant. It's been how long? People should know. JW

It's been approximately nine weeks, according to the OB/GYN. SH

We've been quiet for a few weeks. We should tell people. JW

Okay. SH

Where do we start? Mrs. Hudson, I assume. JW

I'll have to tell Molly. She has to know now, since she took me to the doctor the first time. SH

And Greg Lestrade. Have you thought about maternity leave? JW

I'll concern myself with the matter when it becomes relevant. SH

You're definitely telling your family about this. JW

I suppose it's only necessary. In that case, Mycroft will visit again soon. SH

Great. Can't wait. JW

Was that sarcasm? SH

Yes. JW

In that case, so am I. SH

Lol JW

Don't use that text slang. You're too old for it. SH

How are you feeling today? I could always stop and get some food at that Chinese place. Or can you not eat Chinese? JW

I can eat Chinese. Raw fish is not an option. SH

Do you want Chinese? JW

Yes. SH

Hopefully your appetite doesn't change when I get home. After all, your craving could change. JW

Don't start with me, Watson. SH

I have no choice. You can't escape your pregnancy. JW

* * *

**Confessions **

Alright, I'll be completely honest, since my flat mate and I haven't been entirely honest for a couple weeks now. Sherlock and I went on a date. Yes, one date. You can not believe me if you choose, but it really happened. We have proof. It was a wonderful date, with nice dinner and wine, and ended the same way a lot of dates end. Yes, I have the privilege to say I banged Sherlock Holmes. Don't believe me? Well then you're definitely not going to believe this bit. About three weeks ago, Sherlock started to feel nauseous. I thought she might've had food poisoning, but after seeing a doctor, the matter came to light that Sherlock might be with child. My child, to be more precise. And after two tests and a visit to a gynecologist, it was confirmed. It's odd, you know, how Sherlock and I ended up in this situation. She is nine weeks along at the moment, but still I don't believe she's sure of how to feel just yet. It's not even noticeable yet. In three more weeks, it might be, and it's exciting. I can't wait.

**Comments **

**Harry Watson** NO WAY! You knocked up Sherlock! Good going!

**John Watson** It wasn't really intended. But thanks.

**Mrs. Hudson** Congratulations, you two! I'm very happy.

**Molly Hooper** This is exciting! Don't worry, John, I'll try to keep Sherlock from hurting herself at the lab.

**John Watson** It's good to know we can trust you, Molly.

**Sherlock Holmes** I'm not going to hurt myself, Molly. I'll be fine.

**Molly Hooper** I'll make sure of that.

**Mike Stamford** Well, this is quite a surprise. But shouldn't you two have gotten married before thinking about children?

**John Watson** As I mentioned before, it was unintended. Bloody condoms only work 98% of the time, you know.

**Jacob Sowersby** Do I hear wedding bells in the future for you two, John?

**John Watson** I have no comment on wedding plans. Sherlock and I are just trying to get past this pregnancy thing.

**Sherlock Holmes **Stop commenting about weddings for two seconds and get me a snack.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"I hate this," Sherlock began ranting, sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of ravioli. "You know how I don't eat every day. Now I have to eat even more. Eating makes me feel sick, slows me down."

"Sherlock, you have to," John reminded her. "It's not just about you anymore. You're feeding for two now. Get used to it."

Sherlock chewed down another ravioli and swallowed before saying, "You bought more, right?"

Sherlock was now at least eleven weeks along. There still didn't seem to be any visible sign of her pregnancy, besides her constant fatigue and craving for more food than she usually had in a week without a baby to feed for. John noticed every symptom - the fatigue, the cravings, the nausea, etc. - and had to deal with it all. He had to face that it was all natural. He didn't care otherwise; he wanted to help her through this, she being the mother of their unborn child. Soon enough it would all be over, but then what next? John wasn't for certain. They never discussed giving the baby up to someone who would really want it. They never discussed keeping the baby at all. John knew that Sherlock never wanted this to happen to her, she being the kind of scientific and sociopathic woman that she was. John never expected it to happen, either, but now they had several topics to discuss that they haven't even touched upon.

John decided to change some things around for Sherlock. He had mentioned him moving into her room so he could be there if he needed her, but she disliked the idea of sharing a bed in general. He did, however, get permission to move all of the chemistry equipment from the kitchen table into boxes so that they actually had a table for her to sit down at. Even so, without her doing chemistry, John found himself going to Tesco's for milk almost every week.

John sat at the table with her and enjoyed a quiet lunch with her. He was enjoying her company, like nothing had changed, like it was still the same girl he had agreed to share a flat with, with a few minor changes, such as eating habits and mobile activity. John had to keep a constant eye on her, since he always seemed to be concerned about her. He's kept her away from what she really loves to do to help her figure out what she needs to do, and it was almost heartbreaking that he made Sherlock sacrifice so much in just five weeks of learning about the pregnancy.

"Haven't heard from Mycroft yet?" John asked casually.

"Not yet," Sherlock replied. "Give it a couple of months. He'll show up eventually. He's waiting until the bump is visible."

"In a week or two we should be seeing some sort of bump, right?"

"According to the gynecologist, yes." Sherlock belched.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...it's normal." "Right. I'm still not used to it all. It's almost like you're sick."

"Yes, I've developed a parasite."

"No. Sherlock, don't call the baby a parasite. That's a terrible thing to say. It's a baby. It's natural."

"Sorry."

Sherlock proceeded to stuff more ravioli in her mouth. A bit of sauce ended up on her cheek. "Oh, Sherlock," John said when he noticed, "you have some sauce on your cheek."

"Where?" Sherlock asked.

"It's right- you know what, let me get it for you." John proceeded to reach across the table and wipe it off with his thumb. That was when it occurred to John that the two of them weren't intimate. "Uh, Sherlock, maybe we should discuss the idea of what we're going to do after the baby's born."

"You mean whether we keep it or not?"

"Yes. What do you want to do?"

"Well...it's pretty obvious that you wouldn't mind actually keeping the baby."

"It's not about what I want. It's your baby."

"I'm sorry, I thought it was your baby, too. I thought you had a say. Now it seems like even you don't want to keep the baby."

"Of course I do-" John stopped himself before he continued. He sighed. "Of course I do. It's my child you're carrying..."

"You're still infatuated with me."

"What? No. I mean...Sherlock, I'm your friend- wait, still? What do you mean still?"

Sherlock rolled her eyes, continuing to eat. "Oh, please, John. You think I wouldn't notice? The chemistry of infatuation is very simple. It's not a mystery to me. I've known since before you asked me on a date."

"And you never had the notion to tell me?"

"No. It wasn't going to work out anyway. Your feelings are one-sided, unfortunately. John, it's true that I cherish you as a dear friend and roommate, but I've told you plenty of times before that I am dedicated to my work and I don't need a man to tie me down."

"Oh. I see..."

"I'm flattered, though, John. Usually men who like me for my looks hate me for my personality."

"Obviously they don't know you well enough to see just how amazing you are." Sherlock blushed like she always did when John said things like that. She was always so flattered by his compliments, seeing as she usually didn't receive them from other people. "So," John continued, "you're thinking about keeping the baby, then?"

"It's a possibility."

"I guess you still need time to think about it..."

"I have a lot of time to think about it."

"Take your time."

"But you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking that now you're _really_ fattening me up." John laughed at her comment.

Sherlock and John continued to have lunch. It was hopelessly quiet in the desolate flat. Sherlock never felt like talking to anyone, especially to John, about how she was, how she felt. She was still scared, still confused and unsure of what to do. She had never been so unsure in a long time. It seemed like it could all still be some crazy nightmare that she'd wake up from. But no, it wasn't a dream.

As they finished eating, she wrapped an arm around her midsection. Soon enough it would be growing inside her visibly, and she'd be able to feel it externally. And it scared her, although she tried to keep her expression stoic so John wouldn't see through her disposition.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

It was another visit to the gynecologist once the twelfth week rolled around. Three days into it was the morning of the appointment. John took off work that day so he could go with Sherlock, since he didn't go last time because of work. He wanted to be there for her as much as he could, which was proving difficult not just because of that but also because Sherlock was stubborn and closed, not telling him if anything was going wrong or when she needed his help. She still insisted on her independent ways, which wasn't going to help her now that she needed someone to help take care of her. Technically, John was trying to care for two people.

Early that morning Sherlock went to take a shower. Once she stripped of her pyjamas she headed in, letting the hot water soak her. When she wrapped her arms around her midsection (which had become a bit of a habit), she felt it. She knew it was going to come soon enough, obviously this week, by put it still surprised her. She looked down to see for herself, and there it was. A small bump, popping out at the bottom of her abdomen. It looked almost like one would if they began gaining weight (which she was technically doing). She felt it gently, now coming to more of a realization of her ongoing pregnancy. Her hands began trembling as she touched the bump. She sat down on the shower floor, curling up hesitantly, not wanting her thighs to touch near the bump.

After ten minutes of sitting in there, John became worried. He was sitting there quietly, waiting for Sherlock to get showered and dressed. He stood up and headed towards the bathroom, where he could still hear the shower running.

He knocked on the door. "Sherlock? Are you alright?" When he didn't get an answer, he opened the door. "Sherlock?" John walked in and opened the shower door to find Sherlock curled up in the corner of the shower.

When she noticed him, she became mortified. "Get out," she said.

"Sherlock," John replied, "what's the-"

"Get _out_!" She threw a shampoo bottle at his knee. John turned off the shower for her as he noticed her body shaking. He quickly grabbed her a towel. He tried to help her up, but she was reluctant, being naked and humiliated.

"It's alright," John reassured her. "It's okay, come on." John reached out for her hand. Sherlock took his hesitantly and he pulled her up, wrapping the towel around her. "Sherlock, what the matter? What happened?"

"It's alright, John, I'm fine," Sherlock replied, her voice shaky and cracking, unconvincing towards John.

"You don't look fine. You don't seem fine." He put a hand on her shoulder, keeping her stable, using his other hand to move a wet, curly strand of hair out of her face. Sherlock wasn't fond of him doing that, taking it as an act of intimacy. She wanted to push him off, move away from him, but she couldn't. She didn't want to; he was warm to the touch and comforting. She knew she shouldn't get too close, at least before she was pregnant and knew of his feelings towards her. Was it okay now?

John parted from her and got her her blue dressing gown. She put it on, wrapping the towel around her head. John looked at her and gave her a kind smile. "You okay?"

"I don't know," she replied quietly. It was true, she was confused and afraid. She never experienced this before.

"You should...get ready, okay? We have to go, soon." Sherlock nodded. John sighed. "Do you want that hug now?" He didn't give her time to answer, holding her close in his embrace. At first, Sherlock didn't want him to touch her, but now she clung to his shirt like a child and sunk her head into his shoulder, feeling his hands on her back. John felt it, too, holding her tightly. He had never truly hugged Sherlock before, but there was definitely a different feeling than hugging a normal person. He loosened his embrace and looked down. "Hey," he said, "I think you're forming your bump."

"Is it that obvious?" Sherlock replied.

"Well, I did hug you pretty tightly...sorry... You wouldn't mind if I...?" He reached his hand down to touch it, but she smacked his hand away. "Sorry."

"I have to get ready." Sherlock moved out of the bathroom and back to her bedroom to change. John watched her leave, feeling like an idiot for letting his ambitions get to him. He also felt angry that she didn't want to open up to him. Would she always be so distant throughout her pregnancy? She couldn't be; it's his baby, too.

* * *

Everything was running smoothly, according to the gynecologist. The appointment, however, was a bit awkward.

"This must be your husband," was the first thing he said about John.

"No," Sherlock replied immediately, shaking her head. "He's not my husband."

"We're not married," John added.

"Oh. So he's your boyfriend, then?"

"Oh, God no. Him? No... He's just my...f-"

"Flat mate," said John.

"Friend, John." She looked at him, confused. "Am I not?"

"No, of course you're my friend." After that, everything went naturally. Sherlock was asked to lie down while the gynecologist ran an ultrasound for her. It had already been three months, so now it'd look more like a person than a blob.

"Oh, look," he said to them, "there's the baby. Do you see?" John looked at the screen, and there it was, in black and white (literally). The little image of what was growing and being formed inside of Sherlock. It was her baby, their baby. John stared wide-eyed in awe and wonder, like he had never seen one before. He felt like crying, his eyes prickling with tears. A smile escaped him.

"Oh wow," he said. "Sorry. I uh...just...I can't believe it."

Sherlock couldn't believe it either. She stayed silent and stoic, watching the ultrasound picture in curiosity, hearing its heart beating. She tried to keep calm, although on the inside she was surprised. She observed that everything was perfectly fine. She tried to deduce the gender, but she couldn't. John noticed her "deduction face" and smiled. He knew she wanted to know the gender and he didn't mind that she was curious. Knowing the gender was better, although being surprised isn't bad either, because it helped decide names and types of clothes.

"So," said John, "can we tell the gender yet?"

"Would you like to know?" the doctor replied.

"Yes," both John and Sherlock responded simultaneously. They looked at each other. John smiled.

"Alright then, since the decision is mutual. Congratulations, it's a boy."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

"How exciting! A boy! " Molly was in the lab with Sherlock two days after figuring out the gender of the baby. It seemed that the baby was all anyone wanted to talk about. Sherlock was rather sick of hearing about it from everyone. Then again, it was hard to avoid, considering it was visible now. Now it had an almost-human form, a heartbeat and everything.

Sherlock sighed, reaching into her bag that was lying on the table and pulled out the sonogram for Molly to look at. "Oh my gosh," Molly responded in sheer delight, to which Sherlock rolled her eyes with a grin. "He's so tiny!"

"Well, it's is not fully formed. Even so, it's a baby. It's obviously tiny."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Everyone says that."

"He's beautiful, Sherlock."

"Thank you...I guess."

"Hey, I'm going out to lunch in a few. Would you want to join me?" Molly was very hesitant in asking Sherlock, since Sherlock never seemed interested in going to get coffee or having lunch. Still, Sherlock considered Molly her only "girl friend."

"Lunch sounds great," she replied.

"R-really?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm pretty hungry anyway. Then again, aren't I always nowadays?" Sherlock gave Molly a smile, seeing as she was trying to get a joke out of it. Molly got it and giggled.

And with that, the two headed out to lunch. Molly and Sherlock went to a small, affordable restaurant. While Molly ordered something small, Sherlock had a considerably larger order than she was used to. All she really knew was that she was hungry. It was very different and very unexpected for the two of them. But at this point, Sherlock didn't care, and Molly was completely understanding.

"So, Sherlock," Molly began, "how're you and John?" "Still living together," Sherlock replied after swallowing some food.

"Still roommates. The other day he tried to touch..."

"Your private areas?"

"No, just my bump. I don't know why he wanted to do that..."

"Well, it's his baby, too, isn't it? I mean, he just wants to be there for him, too."

"I know, John's a big sap for these things. I know he wants to get close, but I'm not...comfortable with that. He likes me. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. And I don't feel the same way."

"But won't things change once the baby comes? Or were you planning on giving him up for adoption?"

"Nah, I don't wanna give up the baby."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. I just don't want to have to go through the adoption process. It seems too complicated. Plus, I think it'd make John feel bad because I don't want the baby or some shit."

"In other words, you're too stubborn to give up the baby?"

"I guess you could put it that way, sure. Plus, I have a feeling that the more pregnant I get, the more I'll want to keep the baby. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah."

Just then, Sherlock noticed a familiar face. She immediately tried to organize the table and make it look like she had a normal-sized meal instead of a gigantic one like she had. She wiped her face off with a napkin as he walked up.

"Hey, Sherlock," he said with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Mind if I sit with you two?"

"Sure, Lestrade," Sherlock replied. "Uh, this is my friend, Molly. Molly, this is...uh..."

"Greg. Greg Lestrade."

"I'm sorry," said Molly, "I don't think Sherlock's mentioned you."

"Sure I have," Sherlock replied, food in her mouth. "DI Lestrade?"

"Oh! The Detective Inspector, right. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," said Greg. "Sherlock doesn't have to mention me much."

"I don't think you've heard of me either, Mr. Lestrade."

"Call me Greg. And I think I'd know if she's mentioned how you know her."

"Molly works in the morgue," said Sherlock.

"Ah. The pathologist. Yeah, I think Sherlock's mentioned you before." "

Good to know," said Molly with a smile.

"So, Sherlock," said Greg, "how've you been? John's been keeping me updated on the bun in the oven."

"Ah, then you don't have to hear anything from me then since you're so 'updated.'"

"I'd still like to know what's going on from your perspective."

"Okay. What do you want to know?"

"How you're feeling?"

"Alright, I guess." Sherlock belched into her napkin. "Sorry... I guess I've been hungrier than usual. Makes me sick..."

"I can see that. Still nauseous?"

"Some days. Not today."

"Well, it's good that you're eating at least. Well, I got to get back to the station. It was nice meeting you, Molly."

"You too, Greg." Lestrade nodded, getting up and heading out. "He seems nice."

"He's divorced."

"What? Sherlock, don't tell me that."

"Why? He's available, that's all I'm saying."

"Oh...well, divorced doesn't always mean available, Sherlock."

"Unattached, single, divorced. Same thing."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Thanks anyway, Sherlock, for trying." Sherlock nodded, taking another bite of food.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten **

With nothing to do and not going anywhere, Sherlock was bored. John was keeping her away from crime scenes and anything that could get her in danger. He knew she liked to stunt her way and risk her life to prove she's clever, but she couldn't do that when she was risking the life of the baby as well. So most days were her sitting alone in the flat, either playing her violin or just roaming around, occasionally grabbing a snack or two if she wasn't feeling nauseous.

Today, she was really nauseous, lying on the couch, rubbing her midsection. She had grown used to the bump growing inside her now; it had been fifteen weeks, continually growing and making her feel sick or hungry, two things Sherlock did not like to be. She stared at the ceiling, her head feeling dizzy and not wanting to move from the nausea.

"I'm definitely eating too much," she mumbled to herself, unaware that she wasn't alone.

"Oh, you're not eating too much, dear," a sweet, familiar voice came with the soft clatter of the tea tray. "It's normal to feel this way. It's only hormones and such." Sherlock looked over to find Mrs. Hudson sitting across from her, having placed the tray of tea on the coffee table for the two of them. "Have some tea. It'll make you feel better."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock replied, sitting up and taking some tea, sitting back on the couch on her knees. It was obvious that her t-shirt was getting small on her, but it was still comfortable to wear and wasn't constricting. "I'm guessing you saw this coming, huh? Me, having John's child."

"To be honest," Mrs. Hudson replied, "I thought you two would wait until marriage until you started thinking about the whole family idea."

"Well, you know what they say. Accidents happen." Sherlock shrugged, taking a sip of tea, automatically detesting it. "Did you put anything in this tea?"

"I never do, dear. You must have lost a taste for it. It's normal."

"You mean my baby doesn't want me to like tea?"

"Why don't I put some sugar and cream in it, maybe it'll be better." Sherlock handed Mrs. Hudson her cup and she put sugar and cream into the tea. Sherlock was able to drink that without gagging.

"Thank you... Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Anything, dear."

"How did you feel when you started having children?"

"Well, I had two children with my husband. The first time we had a baby, it was quite unplanned, like yours, only we were married, so it was a joyous thing."

"Weren't you scared at all?"

"Of course I was. There are plenty of things to fear, because anything can go wrong... The second child I was pregnant with only lasted three months before I miscarried it. See? But you...I just hope you'll have nothing to fear. You, dear, have always had a good, child-bearing figure. I doubt that anything will happen to your baby, if that's what you fear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson. But...what do I do if I have a normal, healthy baby?"

"Do whatever you think you should."

"I don't want to give it up, but I don't know if I want to keep it..."

"Believe me. You'll be sure once you get a glimpse of the precious little one."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."

* * *

After work, John was sitting in his chair, reading through some online tabs for popular names. Sherlock was sitting across from him, barely awake from boredom.

"Sherlock?" John asked. "Hey, Sherlock, you awake? I wanna try something."

"Hmm...? M'alright...what is it?"

"What do you think of Andrew?"

"Andrew who?"

"No, no. Andrew, the name. For the baby."

"John, I don't wanna do this now..."

"Come on, it'll be fun. What do you think?"

"Fine. I don't like Andrew. Besides, I thought you'd be more sentimental and want to name it after your dad or my dad or Mike Stamford or George Lestrade or something."

"First of all, his name is Greg."

"Even worse."

"Okay...second of all my dad's name is James. I know you'd hate that."

"Yeah. Smart." James, or Jim, for short, was the name of Sherlock's old adversary, who had killed himself to prove he was insane.

"What's your father's name, then?"

"Scott."

"That's actually nice. I'm writing that one down. Your dad would like it."

Sherlock rolled her eyes. "He probably doesn't even know. Unless my mother told him, because she must've learned from Mycroft..." Sherlock yawned.

John wrote the name down on a notepad. "Okay then, how about some other ones? Not Mycroft. We won't torture our child like that. There are plenty of names you'd like. There's Graham. Or Christopher. You like that? Sherlock?" Sherlock had drifted off on the chair, curled up, her face squished against the English flag pillow she adored. John sighed, putting his laptop down and getting a blanket for Sherlock. He got up and wrapped her in it before picking her up and carrying her to bed. To be honest, she wasn't as heavy as John had expected. Her head rested against his chest, dark curls falling on her face. As he placed her in bed, he brushed them from her face. She slept soundly, and John fought the urge to kiss her forehead and lie down in bed with her. He sighed, patting her shoulder before he got up to leave. He knew she didn't feel the way he did, secretly hoping she would come around. Still, what were the chances that she'd ever feel the same way?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

"John. _John_...JOOOOHHHHHN."

"What? I'm right here. You don't have to yell. What's the matter?"

"I think something's wrong."

"What? What's the matter?"

"I dunno. Something moved."

John sighed in relief with a smile. "It's just the baby."

John had been out in the kitchen when Sherlock called him from her bedroom. She felt something odd in her stomach, and it startled her for a minute.

"Oh," Sherlock said. "I feel like an idiot..."

"No, no, it's okay, Sherlock," John assured her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's okay to be cautious... Thanks for notifying me."

"Why wouldn't I? You're the doctor, aren't you? If something's wrong..."

"Nothing's wrong. You're alright." Sherlock wrapped her arms around her slightly-distended abdomen. She felt the movement again and jumped herself. John sat next to her in the bed. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Hey. There's nothing to worry about. Look at me, Sherlock. I'm here for you, okay? Just like I told you, I'm here for you every step of the way...alright?"

"Alright..."

"Hey, can I...try again? If he's moving, I'd like to feel..."

"Um...I guess it's only necessary. B-be gentle."

"I will." John reached his hand slowly to touch the womb. His hand was warm, but it was also rough. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. Sherlock had felt John's hands before, never in need of lotion, considering he wore gloves all the time at work and didn't have a girlfriend to moisturize his hands for. He moved his hand, noticing that the baby was moving, too. "Hey, look at that. I think he likes me." Sherlock gave him a look of confusion. "It's just...he moved for me. He moves for you, too. He's pretty active today, isn't he?" Sherlock laughed softly. John noticed and smiled.

"You're so weird, John," she said. "You're taking this so easily."

"Am I? Believe me, I'm just as concerned as you...I wish I could be there more often, but I have to work, you know. If it helps, I think about you every day. I think about the baby. Sometimes I worry that something's gone wrong, just like you. He's my baby, too, Sherlock, and you're my best friend. And even though it was an accident, I don't think there's any other girl I'd rather knock up."

"You're a sap." John chuckled, slowly taking his hand off her midsection. Sherlock pushed his face as he laughed. She grinned, too. She didn't mind that he was a sap; it was annoying, but it was cute. "You're a huge sap, and you keep me locked up in here any longer, I'm going to get Stockholm Syndrome."

"No you won't. Quit joking around."

"You quit being so...so bloody weird. It's making me uncomfortable."

John rolled his eyes. "I'll make us some breakfast. How does that sound?"

"You have toast?"

"I can make toast." John patted her back and got up to go to the kitchen and make breakfast.

Sherlock remained in bed, feeling the baby move inside her. Her belly was still just a small, four-month bump, almost five. It was an odd feeling. Feeling it grow, feeling it move, everything was almost alien to her. How was it natural?

One thing was for sure, though. John cared for her. She was for certain that he still had feelings for her. Now he was almost taking a step back, letting her have some space but still trying to ease her into that intimacy she should have with him but didn't. She didn't feel the same way. She feared she never would until it was too late. When was too late? When he's on his death bed? When he leaves? Sherlock shook the idea out of his head. John would never leave her; if he cares for her and the baby like he said he did, he wouldn't, just as he promised. She didn't love him like that, no, but she didn't want him to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

Over the next couple of weeks in her second trimester, Sherlock still tried to keep her distance from her intimate roommate who wanted nothing more than for her to be his. At least that's how she thought he felt. He was trying to give her the space she needed to relax, but he found it so difficult when it seemed like she always needed help. She was independent in an almost feministic way, and most likely was too stubborn to need a man, since she was obviously too stubborn to give up the baby, according to Molly Hooper.

John was almost angered by the fact that she wanted to be so distant and pretend like nothing was going on. It was no mystery anymore as to what was going on - Sherlock was almost five months pregnant with John's baby, which was completely noticeable. By now, John thought she might be a little intimate or close with him, but it only happened on a few occasions. John had been patient for five months. They hadn't even agreed on too many names.

There were a few more names on the list since the first time John brought it up. The first one was Scott, like Sherlock's father. Whenever John met her parents, he'd definitely mention that the name was considered.

The second name was Remus. Sherlock wrote it down. She liked the sound of the name was how she explained it to John. Remus was the name of a Roman legend who was raised by a wolf. It wasn't exactly the greatest name, butt he description almost fit. John didn't mention that to her, though, afraid she might flip out on him.

There were a few other names, like Jack (a variation of John), Patrick, Julian, Leonard, Charles and Thomas. In total, there were eight names. As John looked at the list, he was pretty grateful that they had decided on a number of names, but still it was no bonding experience.

Aside from names, even though John wanted to give her space, he tried to get Sherlock to ease into the intimacy. He'd sit close to her on the couch or around the flat, but she'd simply move farther or even push him away when she felt too uncomfortable. Whenever she wanted to get something, do something, John volunteered to do it for her, wanting to cater to her every whim. This annoyed Sherlock greatly, claiming she was just pregnant, not dying. He even asked if she wanted him to stay in bed with her, but she denied him of sleeping in the same bed as her.

It didn't take her long to catch on to John's motives, but still she kept her distance. She was stubborn, feeling as if she could handle herself and didn't need him to act any different than he had before she got pregnant. She didn't want anything to change, but she couldn't run from it anymore, considering the fact that it was growing inside her. Things were certainly changing for her, but she didn't want John to change, too.

One night, John decided to get dinner for the two of them. "Hey, Sherlock," he said, "you want some dinner? I'm thinking of ordering take-out."

"Take-out actually sounds edible today," Sherlock replied. "Sure."

"Just your usual, or are you craving something else?"

"Not at the moment, but don't be surprised if I steal some of your food." John laughed. He ordered some Chinese take-out for the two of them. For months it had been a mix of Chinese or Thai, tuna fish sandwiches, cereal, cinnamon buns, and anything that was covered in meat sauce and came in a can. There wasn't a lot that made her sick, although some foods did, like eggs and ranch salad dressing. John and Sherlock learned that the hard way.

"So," John began once he had gotten the take-out, "has Mycroft been in touch recently?"

"He sent me a couple emails notifying me that he planned on us going to the parents' house for a while."

"Oh. So I guess we're going to your parents' house? When will that be?"

"Since when are you coming?"

"You said he planned on 'us,' for one, and second of all, shouldn't I be there? Your parents might want to meet the father of your child."

"By 'us,' firstly, I meant my brother and me, not you. Secondly, I don't think they'd care. They're probably already upset with me since I'm having a child out of wedlock with a man I'm not even in love with."

"Oh. So you think I'm an embarrassment to you. Is that what you think?"

"No. That's what my parents probably think. I'm not ashamed of it. Accidents happen, John-"

"Oh my God...I can't believe you."

"What?"

"You still treat all this like it's no big deal. You're treating this like it's all going to blow over in a little over four months and once it's over, your life will return to normal. It's not going to, Sherlock." "

You think I'm not taking this seriously? I am, too. I truly am. I've been sticking to a certain diet, I've been researching, I even helped your list of names."

"Yeah, but you act like you don't care. And on top of that, you're so bloody distant. Why?"

"Because I don't need you waiting on me hand and foot, that's why."

"But you don't need to be as distant as you are. You're not just keeping me away from you, you're keeping me away from the baby. Our baby. You keep forgetting it's my baby, too."

"I know how the situation works, John-"

"No you don't. No, you're being stubborn and closed. Why is it that...I can't be close to you? Why can't I be near you in any way?"

"That's pretty selfish of you, you know, to complain about how much you want to be close to me."

"Well I'm allowed to be! God, why... Why are you so afraid to be close to me? I thought you said I was your friend. And you can't talk about being selfish, because right now, you're the more selfish one. You can't be so cold-hearted anymore, Sherlock. It's not all about you. It's about me, too, and the baby. I'm selfish because I care about you, and you're just selfish because you think you can do all this on your own, but you can't!"

That was it. That set her off. She got up from the table and grabbed her coat and bag. She knew it was true, all of what he said. She didn't want to hear it anymore. She slipped on her shoes and coat, grabbing her bag and heading out the door. John didn't say a word.

As soon as she got up, he was frozen. He didn't know what to say, what to do to convince her to stay. She was angered by what he had said. He knew he was right, being stubborn and not wanting to take any of it back, but as she left the flat, he sat back in his chair, finally figuring out what he should've said as he heard the door slam from downstairs.

"I'm sorry."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Sherlock began walking the streets of London that night, not sure where she was headed, not sure where she could go. She could always call up Molly, find out where she lived and go there, but she wasn't sure if Molly was busy or not, not wanting to disturb her. She didn't want to disturb her.

As she noticed people walking down the street, she tried to button up her coat to hide her bump. Thankfully, her coat was big enough to at least make it unnoticeable at a first glance. Standing up straight, however, she could see it slightly poking out. She moved quickly to try and avoid people.

She was angry; angry at John and what he said, angry at herself for knowing he was right about all of it. She was being distant and closed, selfish and careless. She couldn't help but act that way. What John didn't know was that she was afraid. He said she was afraid to be close, but that wasn't all of it. She was afraid of the situation she was in, being pregnant, having John's baby, being a mother. She wasn't ready for that, ready to handle it. She couldn't show that kind of weakness in front of John.

After walking around some and truly thinking about it all, she lost the anger, which had evolved to sadness. She ran from the pavement and down a corner where no one would be able to see her and just began sobbing. She was just so confused and scared and hurt. She covered her mouth as tears fell down her cheeks, her knees allowing her to sink onto the ground with her back against the wall. She unbuttoned her coat and wrapped her hands around her womb. She sighed, hot tears still spilling from her eyes, feeling the slow movement inside of her. It was scary still, but she thought she should be used to it. It was finally that familiar fear, that fear she had whenever she was running the streets after a cab, whenever she was held at gunpoint but knew she wouldn't get shot. The thrill of the chase, the trill of rush and adventure. She had missed it, but even so, it had remained with her through this experience.

She swallowed, knowing it'd only get better from there. She got up from the ground, feeling a bit better about the whole situation, but still not ready to face John about it. He was probably still mad, and she couldn't admit that she was afraid. She wondered if she could go back to Baker Street or if she would have to go to Molly's for the night.

As she picked up the phone, unfocused on anything else, she suddenly looked up to see a car speeding her direction. She hadn't even realized she had been standing in the street. She tried to move quickly, but the car nearly hit her, braking fast enough so that it touched her. It still knocked her over and onto the ground. She hit her head pretty hard on the ground. She noticed people moving over and trying to help her.

"It's okay," she said, getting up, "I'm alright. I'm fine..." Sherlock moved out of their way and down the street. On her way past them, she felt a pain in her abdomen. The pain rippled harshly, and she sank to her knees. Sherlock began shaking, unsure of what was going on, just knowing one thing.

Something was wrong.

This wasn't like the baby moving. No, this was worse. The fact that she had been hit by a car, suffered a possible concussion, was most likely the cause. She'd read about this. And now she was afraid. Her eyes were wide, her breathing erratic as she felt it, warm and wet. She looked behind her to find that it had already started to happen on her way down, leaving a small trail of drops of her blood straight to her. She covered her mouth, shaking, sinking and curling up onto the ground, crying. She felt like screaming, but she realized that she was lightheaded, slowly losing consciousness. Was this the end for the both of them? This wasn't happening, she thought. This isn't what she wanted at all. People's footfalls, their voices, could be heard once again as she fell out of consciousness, lying on the ground.

She couldn't have this happen to her. No. She was not prepared to be a mother, of course, but nothing prepared her for possibly losing the baby. Now it was most likely gone, dead. She had failed to carry it any longer.

* * *

Sherlock jolted up quickly, sitting up, unaware of where she was. The walls were white, there was a faint beeping, and she was freezing, regardless of the sheets. She was in the hospital. She should've been relieved, but she wasn't. John was there, sitting next to her.

"Hey," he said soothingly. She looked at him, and he was smiling. _How could he be smiling_, she thought, _after the fight?_ After what happened to her and the baby? He couldn't possibly be smiling now. He should be devastated. He noticed that she was distraught, shaking like a leaf, looking like she was about to cry.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked. "Hey, it's alright. Everything's okay..."

"No, it isn't, John!" she shouted. "You should know it isn't! The doctor should've told you. It's not okay! I failed. I couldn't..." Sherlock was so upset now; she no longer cared that John could see her crying. She needed to cry after what happened.

"Sherlock, what're you talking about?" John asked. "I talked to her, everything's alright. Hey..." John hesitantly took her hand. Sherlock didn't pull away, continuing to snivel. "Hey, what happened?"

"You're really clueless, aren't you-" That's when she felt it. The movement. Her eyes widened. She looked down at herself to find that it was still there, the bump. "I...still have...he's okay?"

"Yeah, the baby's alright, Sherlock. What did you...oh. Oh, Sherlock, it's okay. Everything's alright." Despite that, she continued to sob. John proceeded to hold her close, and she accepted that, her hands gripping onto John's shirt. John sighed, just glad everything was okay. "Shh," John soothed, rubbing her back. "It's alright, Sherlock. You're okay..."

According to the doctor, Sherlock had just gotten hit and had lost consciousness right there. Whatever she had perceived about getting up and then miscarrying the baby was nothing more than a bad dream. The baby was going to be fine, although she could've miscarried it after that, and she was lucky she didn't.

"John," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry, you don't know how much I needed you. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry..."

"No, Sherlock...no, don't be. I shouldn't have yelled. It's alright..." He loosened one of his arms to feel the baby again. Now his hands were cold, but Sherlock didn't care, feeling hot anyway. It was like an ice pack that she really needed. He let her head rest on his chest, taking her hand with his other hand and kissing it gently. At this point, Sherlock was too tired and overwhelmed to care what John did with her. Even so, she enjoyed it for once.

"Everything's going to be alright," Sherlock muttered softly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

"Don't worry. It'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say. You haven't met them yet."

"Well, I'm going to meet them now. I think it'll be fun."

"I think it'll be endless."

"It's only a weekend, Sherlock. It'll all be okay."

Sherlock and John had woken up that morning to find that Mycroft had gotten a car for them to take to Sherlock's parents' house. That meant they had to pack for a three-day weekend spent with Sherlock's mum and dad. No doubt that Mycroft would soon join them that weekend, although he hates family visits just as much as his sister did.

Several questions floated around John and Sherlock's heads. Would the weekend go well? How were her parents handling the pregnancy? Would they love her any differently than they had before? And what would they think of John?

Upon getting there, Sherlock was struggling to get her suitcase out of the car when her father rushed out to help her.

"Careful, sweetheart," he said when he came over. "Don't want to break the car."

"It's good to see you, too, Dad," Sherlock replied as he got her suitcase out.

Her dad kissed his daughter's cheek. "What's this? I thought maybe your friend would be helping you with your suitcase."

"Dad, I can take my own suitcase. Plus..." She pointed in the direction of John, who had more than one bag and was full-handed. "It's just the one suitcase, Dad."

"It's a weekend, Sherlock, not a move-in," her father joked. Sherlock chuckled. "Your mother's excited to see you. I swear, all we've been talking about for weeks is you and that baby of yours. How far along are you now?"

"About twenty-one weeks. It's been...interesting. Hopefully it'll be all worth it in the end."

"It always is, Sherlock. It always is..."

Her father led Sherlock into the house, John struggling to open the door. He had a suitcase in one hand and another bag in the other, full of doctor equipment and other things that he thought he might need (when he really didn't). Sherlock's father opened the door for him and helped both of them into the house to get settled.

"Your mother's out running a few errands," her father was saying. "She thought she'd be here before you arrived, and I told her that Mike would get you here early."

"Alright then," Sherlock replied. "Thank God, too. I wasn't ready to come here and be pounded on about how I didn't get married or how her pregnancy was so much different than mine..."

"Don't worry about what your mother says. I know she can be like that."

"Then why'd you marry her?"

"Well, I knew her for a long time and was used to it all. I cared about her a lot...plus, she's super hot." Sherlock laughed. "Should we have lunch then? I bet you're hungry after a long drive."

"Starving."

* * *

Sherlock's mother didn't come home until after Sherlock and John had lunch with Sherlock's father. John mentioned how they had been thinking of several baby names, including Scott. Her father was flattered that they suggested his name, like John thought he would. Sherlock's father was very mellow and truly cared about his daughter, knowing that everything was going to be alright, but still was concerned about her, being her dad.

After lunch, Sherlock had become tired. After a long car ride and the fact that digestion slowed her down, she was glad to be resting. She dozed off on the couch, where John had been sitting next to her. John let her head rest in his lap as he stroked her hair.

"You know she doesn't love you that way," Sherlock's father said as he walked in.

"I know," John replied, "but she's asleep, and she doesn't seem to mind. Besides, she has really soft hair-"

"Okay, I know, John. I can tell you love her that way, though."

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's always obvious to me. I look at you and can't help but see myself, a man who wants to get close to the girl who'd rather push me away. Sherlock is a lot like her mother, free spirited, independent, intelligent. But in the end, Sherlock's like any other person. She's insecure, afraid of letting anyone in for fear of judgement or rejection. She's a good girl, and I can tell you'll treat her right."

"Thanks, Mr. Holmes."

"You can just call me Scott."

"Alright. Scott, can I ask you something? When will she be...ready to open up to me?"

"When the time is right, I suppose." Scott shrugged. "Just give her time. Those pregnancy hormones will get to her eventually and she'll realize her feelings and come running for you. She cares about you, too, you know. She's going to be there for you, too."

"We've always been there for each other. She...likes to get herself into a lot of trouble, and frankly, I can get tangled into a big mess, too, but we always manage to pull each other out."

"And that's how you fell in love with her, because she was there for you."

"Well, not to mention she's brilliantly intelligent and witty and...undeniably hot." Scott laughed with John. "And, you know what? That's why this is going to work, this whole situation. I guess it's why I agreed to stay with her, because I care. I concern myself with five hundred questions every day, just wondering what's going to become of this. In the end, it turns out...alright. And maybe, if I'm lucky..." John smiled. "It could turn out better than I expect it to."

"It's good you're thinking positively about all this."

"I'm scared out of my mind. I guess she is, too. I mean...in just four months, I'm going to have to rush her to the hospital, stay with her for several hours until she finally has that baby. Our baby."

Suddenly there was he faint creak of the front door and mumbled complaining. Scott sighed, almost like he was happy but wasn't too happy. It was that sigh that said, "My wife is home and she's obviously irritated." Sherlock's mother walked pinto the room after shedding her coat and putting her purse on the table, continuing to complain to herself about something that happened today. Once she spotted her husband in the other room, she found the one person she could complain to.

"Scott," she began, "why didn't you tell me Sherlock was here?" Scott rolled his eyes. "You should've told me or called me when she arrived. I didn't think she'd be here so early, but I walk out of my car and suddenly I see another car in our yard."

"I told you," Scott replied, "that Mycroft wanted to bring Sherlock early, but you didn't believe me and went to the store."

"You could've called me, Scott. I may be old, but I have a mobile."

"I know...oh, this is John, by he way." John waved awkwardly.

"Oh. Hello, John. I'm Victoria."

"Hi Victoria," John replied.

"Oh, Sherlock. She fell asleep right before I came. That's too bad. I was hoping to get to talk to her. She never wants to talk to me anymore. Never calls."

"She's busy," John responded.

"Yes, busy having a baby."

"Sweetheart," Scott said, "that was rude."

"I wasn't trying to be. Did I sound rude to you, John?" John couldn't decide. Sure, Scott had a point, but he didn't want to have. Bad reputation with Victoria either. He already made a good impression on her dad, so he wanted to do the same for her mum but still be honest.

"She's really busy," was John's response.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen **

Once Sherlock woke up, she was basically interrogated by her own mother over tea. All she could do was sit pretty and quiet as her mother went on and on, just as she planned, about her pregnancies and all the crazy bullshit that she'd went through. Sherlock sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night. Finally, after some tea, her mother relaxed and became serious. Her mother was always one that had to relax a bit more before she could actually stop talking and complaining about herself and her day and actually care about other people's concerns.

"So, Sherlock," she began, "how have you been? How have you been with your pregnancy?"

"Well, uh," Sherlock replied, "to be honest, I've had a bit of a difficulty. Well, I mean not pregnancy-wise, just...dealing with it in general. It's...terrifying."

"The first one always is, especially if it's unexpected."

"Yeah, but...I've kind of almost...embraced the fear. For a moment, I did embrace it, like I was ready to take it on. I'm still keeping the baby. What else would I do with it?"

"Give it up for adoption?"

"With ordinary people? No thank you. Those people aren't qualified."

"What makes you think you're qualified to raise a child?"

"That's not the point, mum. The point is that I'm keeping the baby. I'm back into the thrill of excitement, but in a different and more natural way...except, I did have an odd...dream, maybe? Well, I fell unconscious the other day in the street, and I thought I had gotten up and walked a bit until...I thought I lost the baby. That's been the scariest part of this whole experience. To think I was able to do something like this and then just lose it all in a split second?" Sherlock was shaking. Her mother sat next to her and comforted her, rubbing her shoulders. "I wasn't too sure about keeping him at first," Sherlock continued quietly. "But now...I can't abandon him. It's sentiment, mother. It's..."

"It's your child," her mother said. "Knowing that you are responsible for bringing life into the world, it's scary, but it's wonderful. You'll get through this. You're strong enough, Sherlock, and I know you can make it through." She kissed Sherlock's cheek, stroking her long, curly hair lovingly.

* * *

Sherlock and John were taken up to Sherlock's old bedroom. Since Sherlock had left, it had been repainted and redone to be a guest bedroom, leaving some sentimental items of Sherlock's on the shelves. John looked at them after getting all the bags sorted and unpacked. A lot of it was old, like an ivory-colored jewelry box and an old piggy bank. There was even a porcelain doll and a ship in a bottle. John assumed it wasn't hers until she stopped him from touching it.

"Don't you dare!" she shouted. "It took me a week to build that with my dad."

"Oh," John replied, "so it _is_ yours. Mycroft told me you were fond of pirates."

"Yeah, well, princesses weren't exactly my style."

"And pirates were?"

"Yes."

"What about he China doll?"

"She was a gift. I used to hold her captive on the pirate ship and made her walk the plank." John laughed. "My mother was so afraid that if I kept playing around with her, I'd break her. Because she's fragile, she's porcelain. At least her head and hands are. I made sure that my bed was surrounded by pillows or blankets to create water so she wouldn't break. She'd simply drown or get eaten by sharks."

"You were an imaginative little girl."

"Weren't you?"

"Not a little _girl_, but sure, yeah. I grew up too quickly, I think. My parents...eh, they got divorced. I ended up living with my mum and sister."

"I'm sorry...If it helps you any, I stopped playing pirates when I was around eight years old, when I lost my first mate."

"Another doll?"

"My dog, Redbeard."

"Aw. Oh, I'm sorry... You know, it's getting late. Let's not talk about all this sad and depressing stuff." "I thought you wanted me to open up to you." "I know, and it's nice, just...it's late. We should...are we sharing a bed?"

"Obviously. Would you rather not?"

"No. That's fine, I was just wondering." It was the first time Sherlock and John shared a bed in almost five months. Of all the times that John wanted to climb into bed with her, to keep her close and comfort her, were finally put to rest at last.

As darkness fell, John lay silently in the bedroom, the lights of the hallway shining under the door, keeping the objects in the room visible. Sherlock lay asleep next to him, covered in the sheets, some of her curls falling onto her face again. John gently brushed them away, staring at her longingly.

"I'm still awake you know," Sherlock muttered, eyes still shut. John flinched, pulling his hand away.

"Sorry," he said. "I thought you were asleep."

"Yeah," she chuckled, "you _thought_."

"Why are you still awake?"

"Why are you?"

"I never get any sleep and you know it. It's my...PTSD or something. Why aren't you asleep?"

"I thought of something."

"What's that?"

"Morgan and Oliver."

"Who are they?"

"Names. You know, to add to your list."

"Really? I like them."

John and Sherlock proceeded to list off all the names on the list: Scott, Remus, Jack, Patrick, Julian, Leonard, Charles, Thomas, and now Morgan and Oliver. Ten names. In that time, they decided to get rid of some oft he names they had. John had Sherlock get rid of Remus. Sherlock made him get rid of Leonard. They agreed that Charles should be taken off as well as Thomas. John confessed to Sherlock that Morgan wasn't a really good name, and she agreed, saying it was only a suggestion. By the end of the night, five names remained - Scott, Jack, Patrick, Julian, and Oliver. But in the end, six names were on the list, them having added one: Henry, like Henry Knight from Dartmoor.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

"So, our mother has informed me of your decision to keep the child."

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"Your pregnancy is already interfering with your career choice."

"I don't care."

"You do realize this involves a tremendous amount of responsibility."

"Mycroft, I'm not a child anymore. I am responsible, and I deserve to be recognized for that. Haven't I proved myself responsible?"

"Let's think, shall we? Not long before you met John, you had a serious drug addiction, and now you not only had intercourse but are conceiving a child out of wedlock."

"It's not _entirely_ my fault."

Sherlock and Mycroft were sitting in the parlor of their parent's house, having morning tea, arguing over Sherlock's current situation. Mycroft had arrived early in the morning, surprising Sherlock when she walked downstairs. John soon followed after, finding the two in the middle of a conversation.

"Oh," he said, "hey Mycroft. It's been a while."

"Indeed it has," Mycroft replied. "One moment I'm in the Parliament building discussing global matters and next thing I know I get a call from my mother regarding how you impregnated my little sister."

"Good morning to you, too," John muttered, turning into the kitchen to pour himself some tea. Sherlock snickered.

"Seems you two are becoming friendly," Mycroft continued. "A little bit too friendly, by the looks of it. You know what this is leading to."

"Mycroft," said Sherlock, "I don't want to think about it."

"John certainly has. John, when do you plan on marrying Sherlock?"

John almost choked on his tea. "Marrying? Mycroft, we can't think about that right now. We have a bigger...situation to deal with."

"So after that's all situated, you'll think of marriage."

"I dunno. It's a possibility."

"I'm glad you're considering the idea." Sherlock rolled her eyes, putting her tea down on the coffee table, wrapping hands around her distended abdomen. Mycroft almost grimaced at it. "So, is there anything that I should be aware of in regards to the unborn fetus growing inside you?"

"It's a boy," Sherlock replied. "And we're not naming it after you."

"Yes, thank you for sparing me and your child of the burden..."

* * *

"Mycroft doesn't like the idea you're pregnant, does he?" John asked Sherlock later that night in bed.

"No, he doesn't," Sherlock replied. "He hates children. He and I have always had this love-hate relationship. He probably hates me more now for becoming pregnant. He thinks I'm irresponsible and immature."

"You're a fucking grown woman. He shouldn't think you're irresponsible."

"Apparently I've given him plenty of reasons to think so."

"I think he's just worried, possibly... Forget him. Forget what he thinks. I think it'll be alright..."

"Thanks, John."

"Alright. We should get some sleep."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"The baby's awake." Sherlock sat up in bed, wrapping her hands around her midsection and feeling the baby move inside it. John proceeded to sit up with her and move closer to feel for himself. She allowed him to touch her belly without hesitating or arguing. John moved his hand across her, noticing the movement inside her.

"What's he doing up so late?" John joked. Sherlock giggled at his joke. John smiled, looking down at the belly. "Hey, mate," he said, "you gotta let your mum get some sleep some time." Sherlock continued to smile as John rubbed his thumb across her stomach. "You'll have plenty of time to keep us up four months from now. Can you be patient?"

As Sherlock sat there, she noticed something about John. "John," she asked, "did you...put lotion on your hands?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Well...I felt like I needed to start. After all, I'll be caring for a baby soon, and I didn't want him feeling my rough hands on his soft skin."

"I didn't mind your rough skin," Sherlock thought aloud.

"Oh...that's...nice to know."

"What I'm saying is that you shouldn't moisturize your hands. They feel weird."

"Sorry." John pulled his hand away.

"Besides, he's a baby. He won't care. All that the baby will care about is feeling comfortable or wanting to be fed or shit like that. He won't care about how rough your hands are or how stubbly your chin is or anything like that. It's a baby, John." John smiled at the thought as he lay back down next to her. Sherlock joined him.

"Hey, Sherlock?" John asked. "Mycroft mentioned marriage earlier. Do you hi it hat, after we have the baby that we should...?"

"Weddings are expensive. We'd have no one to invite. We wouldn't even know the when and the where - John, it'd be completely obvious that we only got married just because we had a baby. It's ludicrous!"

"Yeah...ludicrous." John pulled the covers over his shoulders and turned his body away from Sherlock. Sherlock sighed, wrapping her arms around her midsection again, feeling the baby move. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what was to become of all this, fear creeping back into her mind.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen **

It had been a couple weeks since Sherlock and John had visited Sherlock's parents. Sherlock was now entering her sixth month of pregnancy, and the two were making some changes.

John had finally gained entry into Sherlock's room for the night. After sharing a bed at her parents', Sherlock wasn't used to falling asleep without him, especially if she feared something was wrong, which she did often. John always knew how to keep her calm and reassure her that everything was alright, knowing she was just being a bit hormonal. John continued to have nightmares about the war, even when he was in the comfort of Sherlock's company. It was then he realized that he wasn't the only one having trouble with sleep. After the whole fight incident, Sherlock continued to have occasional nightmares about miscarrying the baby. She'd cry softly, trying not to wake anybody but always waking up John, who proceeded to tell her everything was alright like he always did. John had never seen her cry before her pregnancy, not even once. He could only assume she was crying so much from a mixture of fear and hormones.

Hormones always seemed like an excuse to John nowadays. Whenever she was overly dramatic or exaggerated an emotion, it was always hormones. The Sherlock he knew was almost stoic and somewhat dramatic (or as he likes to put it a "drama queen"), never too dramatic or emotional in any way. After a few weeks, she was only so hormonal in the night, but during the day she was more like herself, which John didn't mind.

It was different for Sherlock, too. She didn't notice a lot of what was going on in regards of her pregnancy like hormones and stuff like that. She had gotten very used to eating more than she usually would, but what she wasn't used to was moving around and doing normal things with a protruding stomach. It was uncomfortable and continued to grow, and as much as Sherlock hated it, it wasn't done growing just yet. She had three more months, and in those months it would continue to become more uncomfortable and harder to move around with. She hated it.

Sherlock was always up early in the morning ever since she was aware of her pregnancy. She'd wake up early in the morning, make herself a cup of coffee, and sit in her chair, which she turned towards the window so she could look outside and feel content. For six months she watched countless numbers of snow and rain, cars, birds, and other people from out the window. She'd wrap a blanket around her shoulder and sit there like a lonely, old man lost in thought rather than conversation.

John would catch her sitting there some days. She looked like an Italian painting, a goddess bathing in rays of sun as it rose over the city landscape. She was still and vigil like a rose in bloom. She was blooming, technically, according to some pregnancy terms. She was a goddess, but he was a mess with his bed head and plenty of scratchy, unshaven stubble. He was not a morning person. He shouldn't have been like that, considering he was in the army, but once he got used to a little bit of domestication, he found it easier to enjoy sleeping in.

One morning he decided to join her. He came out of the bedroom early in the morning, following a few minutes after Sherlock had finished making a pot of coffee, all sleepy-headed and unkempt. He didn't think Sherlock would notice her, being all spaced out as she looked out the window. John stood behind her, laying his arms on the top of the chair and resting his chin there. He sighed, looking out the window, watching out the window as cabs and people passed by. He looked down at Sherlock.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked her. She wasn't startled, nonchalantly looking up at him, which could only mean she knew he was there.

"I'm actually doing the opposite of thinking," she replied.

"What's that?"

"Trying to forget, even for a minute or two."

"Forget what?"

"A lot of things...mostly trying to get bad thoughts out of my head."

"Like what?"

"Lately, it's been miscarriage. Everyone tells me that I have nothing to worry about and that everything is going to be alright, but for some reason I've got this feeling that it's not."

"Why do you think that?"

"Hormones, most likely. The fact that I keep dreaming about it, too. It...haunts me."

"Sherlock, it's most likely just a bad dream. You're worried. That's completely fine, it's normal for women to worry."

"Well, yeah. But this isn't normal."

"I'm pretty sure you're just worried. You've done a lot of research on it, haven't-"

"Maybe it's not being afraid of losing the baby...I think I'm just afraid of not losing the baby and keeping it. You know?"

"That's normal, too."

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"I told you before that I'm really not. It's...scary. I really am angry at myself for actually agreeing to all of this. I mean, I never thought I'd get you pregnant after the first time...bloody condoms. When I found out, I was mad for a minute. At myself, mostly, for suggesting sex in the first place but also for putting you through all this. But it's not all about me. Although sometimes I think that maybe I could just avoid it. I was hoping it was just a scare maybe, but then I thought that if it really was, would it be better? I don't know. And I'm sorry I got mad at you a few weeks ago for being so closed. I get it. You're afraid...I shouldn't have pushed you into trying to be intimate. I was being selfish, too, just...wanting to be with you."

"Most men flee from a pregnant woman because they're afraid of commitment," said Sherlock.

"Bullshit," John replied. "Absolute bullshit. I made a promise, Sherlock, at the beginning of this, that I'd be there for you. I still want to keep that promise. From here to three months from now, and all the time after that. I promise."

"You're a sap," was Sherlock's response. She did, however, smile at him, and they both started laughing. "You're a huge sap. You always have been." She looked up at him as he looked down at her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"The point is," John said, "I don't care how scary it is, how terrified I am. I'm so used to living with you, this is nothing new. Then again, it kind of is...but you're missing the point-"

"I get it, John," Sherlock interrupted.

"Yeah...it's like you always say. You got your...'best man' on it, I guess."

Sherlock giggled. "Yeah. Best man..."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Sherlock was at Bart's again after an appointment with the gynecologist. She went on her own, since John had work and she felt like she could do it on her own, text him details later. She was sitting at the microscope, having texted John that everything was fine and healthy.

She was very uncomfortable. Her abdomen had expanded so much that it was now becoming difficult to even sit at the lab table and look at specimens through her microscope. She sighed, upset that it wasn't the end of the growth and that it would just get bigger in the next three months. She was so frustrated that she rested her head on the table, grumbling to herself.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock shot her head up to find Molly. She was like a mouse, so quiet and small, barely noticed until she wants to be.

"Oh. Hey, Molly," said Sherlock. "Sorry. I'm just...mad."

"Why?"

"At my belly. It's bloody massive!"

"How far along are you?"

"Twenty...six weeks."

"You're pretty far along. It's still growing, though-"

"I know!" She slammed her head on the desk. "My life is ruined by my beach ball of a belly," she groaned. "It keeps making me eat and grow weary. I hate it so much."

"Sherlock, it's normal. It's only for a few more months. You'll be alright-" Sherlock groaned again. "Are you going to be okay, Sherlock?"

"I don't even know anymore, Molly. I'm just..." She sighed, lifting her head up. "I'm just not sure of anything anymore. My brain is doing random hormonal things and it makes me feel terrible."

"Sherlock, maybe you should go home and rest-"

"No! No, I don't want to. I'm fine, Molly."

"Sherlock...you really should. Have you heard of maternity leave?"

"Oh dear God, no...Molly, please, I don't need to be on-"

"Yes, you should."

"Molly-"

"Sherlock, _please_!" Her voice squeaked. Sherlock was startled. Molly sighed. "Please? Please take care of yourself."

* * *

Sherlock sat at home after that. She was bored and in need of something to do. She had her hands on her stomach, feeling the baby move. The idea that something was still growing inside her was something she should've gotten used to by now, but still it was a scary thought. The thought that it was still growing was overwhelming and incredibly hard to comprehend.

John came home later to find Sherlock sitting alone in the tranquility of Baker Street. He could tell she was upset and thought that he shouldn't talk to her. He ignored that thought entirely.

"Hey, Sherlock," he said, "are you okay?" Sherlock gave no response. "I just got some stuff from Tesco's. You want me to make you something for dinner? I'm pretty shit at cooking, but for you-"

"John," said Sherlock, "you don't have to make me dinner. I ate a ton already today."

"Oh. Oh, alright. Anything I could do for you?"

"I need a bath." Sherlock wasn't fond of having John do whatever she told him to do for her, but she took the small advantage on days like today when she needed a nice bath.

Sherlock was fine being naked around the house, even with John around. It wasn't something she picked up after her pregnancy; she'd been naked around the house plenty of times, almost like a man. None of the windows were open when she was, but the only person who ever caught her let alone minded that she was naked was John. Usually, she'd wear a sheet over her body, but sometimes John would notice it slipping off or see her body through the thin sheet. It was like living with a Greek goddess from a painting all the time. His view never changed when she became pregnant.

Sherlock sat in the hot bath, letting it take over all her senses with a long, exhausted sigh. John waited outside the door, in case she needed help. He knew all she would want to do was soak and nothing more, but still, if she needed help getting out of the tub or if she wanted him to join her, he'd be there.

John was desperate. He knew he was desperate, waiting outside the door like a bouncer at a club. He had small windows of intimate opportunity. If only he'd not suggested the sex, and maybe the whole mess could be avoided altogether.

_No,_ he thought. _Don't think like that. This is your child, and you're not leaving Sherlock now. Ever._ He feared she was becoming unappealing to John's eye. It was like she said about fleeing from commitment. John couldn't run. He'd live with that for the rest of his life if he ran from his responsibility. There was the question, however, that he couldn't stop asking himself.

Is this what he really wanted?


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Two years ago..._

"Who'd want me for a flat mate?"

"That's funny. You're the second person to say that to me today."

"And who was the first?"

An old friend of John's, Mike Stamford, was sitting with him on a park bench, drinking some coffee when he first mentioned Sherlock. He didn't talk about Sherlock much more, which would've been helpful.

John didn't know what to expect when he walked into the laboratory. It looked different from when he had been trained there. Mike walked in after him, but John didn't pay attention to him. He had caught sight of something else.

She was tall, dark curly hair tied back in a ponytail of bouncy curls, skin like porcelain, lips as crimson as blood. She wore a tight purple blouse, sleeves rolled up, and tight black trousers. She was focused on a Petri dish in front of her.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone?" The first words she spoke. Her voice was like a jungle cat.

"Something wrong with the landline?"

"No, I prefer to text."

"Sorry, I left it in my coat."

Opportunity sprung. The first opportunity of many. "Here," John said to her, pulling out his phone, "use mine."

"Oh." Sweet, like honey. "Thank you." The first words spoken to him from her lips. The first interaction.

Hen he found out that she was the one who was interested in the flat. His mood changed.

"You're kidding. You didn't tell me that it was a woman."

"You didn't ask," Mike replied.

"You think I want to room with a woman?"

"Problem?" Sherlock responded. "I don't see a problem."

"Really? I don't even know your name and I'm a man. You don't want to live with a man."

"I never said I didn't. To be completely honest, I've lived with men before, so it's nothing new. If you were so desperate for a flat, you wouldn't let your misogynist thoughts keep you from a good deal, now would it?"

"I don't know where we're meeting, and I don't even know your name."

"I know you're an army doctor who served in Afghanistan and suffers from a psychosomatic limp. Little money and desperate for a flat, won't go to your alcoholic brother for help." She gives him a grin. "I think that's enough for your to go with, don't you think?"

She exited the room. John thought he'd never see her again, but then he did. He ran after her.

"Wait! I don't know where we're meeting-"

"221B. Baker Street."

"-or your name."

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock...that's an odd name-"

"Afternoon!"

And then she was gone. Not forever, of course. John would see her again and live with her. He would blog about her, solve crimes with her. He eventually would truly fall for her, take her on one meaningless date, make love to her, and accidentally get her pregnant. He never knew that it would lead to all of that, but still he believed that he'd somehow want to if he did, because he'd be curious as to how exactly he fell in love with her.

* * *

_A year ago..._

It was an unbelievable case. A runaway murder, leaving his trail for Sherlock and Scotland Yard to follow. Little did they know that he would find out who exactly was looking for him.

John was captured. He didn't know how he could've been. He remembers fighting off a guy, but then blacking out suddenly. The next thing he knew, he was tied up in a chair, his head bleeding, no idea where he was.

This was the end, he thought. He was going to be held hostage and die. He didn't want to die, but, for the sake of secrecy, he would. He had his honor, the heart of a soldier. Still, that familiar fear of death breathing on his neck gave him chills and left him wondering if he had any alternatives.

He was interrogated. Smacked with big, rough hands on his hot cheeks, forced to look into the cold eyes of a killer with alcohol on his breath. He hated it, all of it. It wasn't as worse as war, but it was pretty damn close.

Once John was alone, he wasn't relieved. He was upset and afraid. He wanted to go home before he was killed menacingly by this man. He heard the door knob jiggle. It was the end. John swallowed his fear into his chest, ready to brace what was coming to him.

Fortunately for him, an angel saved him. And not just any angel, but Sherlock.

Her hair was a mess, looked tugged and ripped at. Her face was bruised and her appearance was not orderly and unkempt. She looked like she was attacked by a pack of wolves. She held a gun in her hand, John noticing her coat sleeve slipping off. She had no shoes, at least not anymore. As she came up to him quickly, he noticed her lip was cut.

"Sh'lock," John managed to say.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked repeatedly. "Are you alright, John?" She began untying him. John felt his arms loosen and break free, sighing in relief.

"M'fine...think...y'okay?"

"That's not important right now. We have to get you out of here. You might need a hospital." John nodded in agreement. "My God, John, you would not believe how hard it was to find you."

That's when it came to John that Sherlock had fought off his captors to save him. No, he thought. There was no way Sherlock Holmes was that selfless. Turns out, that was what happened. As Sherlock got John out, he saw two unconscious men outside the door.

"Wow...amazing."

"Sorry?" Sherlock responded.

"You...did that?"

"It's no big deal, John. I told you, not important."

"Wow, you're amazing, Sherlock...thank you..."

"No. Don't say that. I'm no hero. I was just doing you a favor."

"S'fine...I..." That was the moment he realized exactly how he felt about her. He was so weary that he could've told her right there how he felt without any hesitation. He wouldn't care how she'd react, how she would respond, but before he could say anything, he heard her say, "Not important," and he blacked out.

From that point on, his feelings never changed. He respected her as a friend, however, and kept his distance. He was granted an opportunity and felt like he was ruining her life now because of it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

The sixth month was approaching its end on a lazy afternoon. John was checking his emails and blog comments, literally getting a headache from all the questions and suggestions he had been getting from other people.

There were plenty of suggestions of having a baby shower, but, when brought up to Sherlock, she refused with great passion. She seemed almost disgusted by the idea like she had just witnessed someone vomit all over her and walked into her room and shut the door (which is ironic, considering she was vomiting again herself as she entered the third trimester).

John regretfully told everyone who suggested the idea that Sherlock wasn't going to have a shower, but that she would accept gifts with gift receipts or return addresses. By the beginning of the seventh month, Mrs. Hudson had called John down nearly a hundred times to sign for a package.

"Look at this!" John was unpacking a box on the bed with Sherlock sitting next to him, reading an article on her laptop about God knows what (John saw dead bodies and assumed that it was something he wouldn't be interested in. John held up a little onesie for Sherlock to look at. "Look how adorable this is!"

Sherlock glanced up from her laptop, not taking a second look. "Sure," was her response.

John sulked his shoulders, dropping his hands into his lap. "Seriously? You barely looked at it or the past few that I've shown you."

"Who the hell sent so many baby clothes anyway?"

"A friend of yours, apparently."

"Please."

"No, seriously." John looked into the box again. "Oh, look at this one!" He showed her another orange onesie. She wasn't looking. "Sherlock, look!" Sherlock took a small glance.

"I don't like orange," she said, "and my child isn't going to be seen wearing that color." John laughed at that, putting anything orange into a separate box of things that Sherlock had refused to keep for the baby. Surprisingly enough, it was not too full. Most of the items were books or room accessories, a few clothing items, and one book on parenting. She did keep, however, a few things, like some of the stuffed animals and any of he clothes that she hadn't rejected, as well as some of the "equipment," as she refers it, for taking care of the baby.

The one thing they seemed to be missing was a cot. The baby had to sleep somewhere, and sleeping in Sherlock's bed might kill him. John thought it might've not come in the mail yet, either that or no one was going to send one, so they'd have to buy it. That was fine with John, who felt like he wasn't spending much on the baby anyway.

As John organized everything, he began talking to Sherlock about her plans. "So," he said, "when're you going to get back into consulting?"

"After this...'maternity leave' that I'm on," she replied. "So...how long is that?"

"From now until the baby's born, then...I wanna say a couple weeks after that, whenever you're ready to come back to work."

"Oh, so the next day after I have the baby is fine then."

"What? No...I'd be surprised, but if you're out that long, you won't be feeding your baby or being around him. You're supposed to stay in the hospital those days afterwards. Do you even know how hard it is to have a baby?"

"Seems like you know a whole lot."

"Of course I do. I've had friends who've had babies."

"But you've never had one yourself, so how would you know?"

"Given the fact that you haven't had one either, you know just as much as I do."

"Well, I will have one soon, so then I'll continue to be the smart one."

John laughed. "Oh, Sherlock, I love you."

"What?" She looked up from her laptop in surprise.

"What? Oh..." John turned red. "No. I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I did. No! I mean...forget I said it."

Sherlock nodded, looking back down at her laptop, not wanting to mention it again. With one hand scrolling on the laptop, she kept another one near her stomach. John noticed. She and the baby had certainly grown since the bump first formed no less than four months ago. Through those months he kept watch of her, comforted her, grew closer to her. He enjoyed a lot of the time they spent together, not including the fighting and her constant need to push him away.

He truly did love her, even before she was pregnant. He loved her, he realized, from the day they met, or else he wouldn't have stayed, except for affordable accommodations. Sherlock was everything to him, and now he had another reason to be there for her. He only wished she felt the same way.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_She was being wheeled away, cringing and crying in the pain of her labor. He tried to keep up with the doctors taking her to the delivery room, but for some reason, he couldn't. He felt a familiar pain in his leg, a pain he hadn't felt in over two years. He slowed down significantly, taking a look down at his aching leg, and when he looked up again, they were gone, in a flash. _

_He kept walking there. He knew where to go. He knew he had to be there. He could hear her crying out, looking for him, calling his name. _

_"John!" _

_He ran. He needed to find her. He didn't know where she was now. He was so confused. His head began spinning, her voice echoing and banging at his head like a drum until finally there was nothing but silence. _

_John didn't feel pain in his leg. He didn't feel so confused, so nervous, so upset. He went looking for her again, not as hurriedly as he thought he should. He walked through familiar white halls with white tile floors...until he found a trail of blood. He became scared. A sign that read "Delivery Room" pointed straight in the direction the blood trail was going. John followed it slowly, nervously, hoping that it wasn't her blood. _

_There was a man waiting there, in blue scrubs. His face was familiar and haunting as John noticed him standing at the end of the hall with a small bundle in his arms. _

_"Why are you here?" _

_The man looked up at him, dark eyes piercing him like a knife in his chest. He gave him a smile, twisted and evil, like the devil himself staring him in the face. The man looked back down at the bundle once again, bouncing it lightly in his arms. _

_"Poor thing," the man said. "So sorry you had to miss it, Johnny Boy, but you would rather, wouldn't you? Nobody made it. You didn't make it to see her. She didn't make it through the labor...and this little one...well, you see where this is going, don't you, Johnny Boy?" _

_"No... This isn't happening. You're dead! She's not dead! God, please tell me she's not dead..." _

_"Sorry, Johnny, but it's true. I was there...making sure she was good as dead." The man came up to him and handed him the bundle. "I believe this is yours." He dropped it into his arms. Limp. Cold. Stiff. Pale. Dead. _

_"John!" He looked up. It was her voice. "John!" _

"John."

John woke up with a jolt, in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. His face was wet, but not entirely from sweat. His face felt sticky. He put the balls of his hands into his eye sockets, drying his eyes, using his arm to wipe the sweat from his head.

He looked next to him, relieved. There she was, Sherlock, the girl he adored, a bump still adorning her belly. John let out a long, deep sigh.

"Oh, God, Sherlock," John said once he caught his breath, "it's finally getting to me. You're giving me the most insane nightmares nowadays."

"Oh," Sherlock replied. "That's good to know."

"No! No, it's not...Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just...worried about all this. My worry keeps getting stronger the more the baby grows."

"Oh. You're just worried."

"Yeah, exactly. Just bad dreams...I'm just as scared as you are. If something goes wrong..."

"That's funny. You're the one who usually says nothings going to go wrong and everything will be fine-"

"Of course I don't know that for sure."

"Then what do you know for sure?"

"That-" He almost said it. He stopped himself before he could, swallowing his words back in. He shook his head, looking away from her. His heart went up his throat with what she said next.

"That what?"

John looked at her again, seeing how curious she was. It wasn't obvious to her at all. How could it not? His feelings were obvious to her, but not what he was about to say? He swallowed again, looking her in the eyes before he finally mustered the courage to say what he was going to say.

"That I love you."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

There was a first for everything in their relationship.

The first time they met was at St. Bart's on a September afternoon. The first words they spoke to each other were "Here, use mine," and "Oh. Thank you." The first time they went to dinner was for a case. The first time they held hands was to escape the police. The first time they had an argument was about not having milk in the fridge. The first time he kissed her was on her cheek for an undercover case. The first time she kissed him was on the cheek to thank him. The first time they kissed not he lips was when they went on the date they had, which led to the first time they made love.

This was the first time he said he loved her and meant it.

"That I love you."

Sherlock stared at him, not entirely surprised, but with eyes widening just a bit, eyebrows raised. She didn't expect him to say that. John looked down, a bit humiliated that she didn't have an immediate response. At least she didn't seem to hate him for it.

"That's what I know for sure," he continued. "I...know you probably thought I just had a little crush and it was nothing more, which I did, because you're beautiful and fun and intelligent. And I'm not just saying this or feeling this way because you're carrying my child. No, I think I loved you from the first time we met. And for the longest time I've truly wanted to be with you. That's why I suggested the date, the sex, everything. The reason we're having this baby even, all because I wanted to at least have one night with you..."

He looked up at her. She wasn't looking at him anymore. She hadn't since he continued talking. She was looking down, like she always did when she was nervous or unsure, her hands on her distended womb. She was silent.

John sighed, feeling absolutely stupid, but more worried than stupid. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Was it something I said?"

"John," Sherlock replied rather coldly, "I've told you a number of times that I am married to my work, I am not looking for a relationship with anyone, even you, especially now, and the date we had, _you_ said, was meaningless."

"It was never meaningless. To you, maybe, it used to be, but how could _this_ -" He moved his hand towards her womb and gently touched it with his rough hands. Sherlock looked at him, and they stared at each other. "- be meaningless?"

"It was an accident, John."

"That doesn't matter anymore! The past is gone. This is our future...I don't care that it was an accident. I'm just hoping that, from now on, whatever happens, it'll all be okay." John lay back in bed, looking at the clock. 4:00 a.m. "What're you doing awake? I didn't wake you, did I?"

"To be honest," Sherlock replied, "you did. But it's alright. I've kept you up a number of nights. What's one sleepless night to another?" Sherlock lay back down with him. "Get some sleep, John."

"You too, Sherlock. Good night."

"_Morning_, John."


End file.
